


Good Boy

by annundriel



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annundriel/pseuds/annundriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty knows Jack likes to be on his knees.  He just didn't realize how much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

As soon as they’re through the door of the apartment, Jack crowds Bitty with his hips and hands and chest, pushing until Bitty feels the door hard against his back, Jack hard against his front. His mouth is hot on Bitty’s, lips persistent, and Bitty can’t help but laugh until he groans, delighted at Jack’s eagerness, hungry for anything—for everything—Jack wants to give him.

“ _Jack_ ,” he says, pulling away to breathe, to think. He toys with the hem of Jack’s t-shirt, fingers brushing smooth skin beneath, and grins when Jack pushes closer.

Jack’s breath gusts across his neck, and Bitty shivers, tilting his head to make room as Jack presses an open-mouthed kiss just above his shirt collar. The hint of teeth is enough to make Bitty feel it but not enough to leave a trace. “What.”

“Don’t you want— _oh_.” One of Jack’s hands shifts, cupping Bitty through his jeans. Biting his lip, Bitty rocks into Jack’s palm, eyes slipping closed as Jack’s mouth moves up his neck to suck at an earlobe. “Don’t you want to take this somewhere else?”

Humming against him, Jack shakes his head. “No,” he says, breath skimming over the skin he’s left damp. Bitty shivers, clutching at his shoulders. “No,” he says, nosing along Bitty’s jaw to fit their mouths together again. “I think I want to stay right here.”

Bitty’s breath catches in his throat, pulse ratcheting up a notch. It feels like forever since Jack touched him, even though it was only that morning, Jack’s hands greedy against his skin in the shower. It feels like forever, and all Bitty wants is _more_. He pushes up into Jack, chasing him, desperate to feel those teeth on his bottom lip again. “Oh? And what do you think you’re going to do right here?”

“If you can’t think of anything, Bittle, your imagination is lacking.”

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Zimmermann, that my imagination is perfectly adequate.” The last syllable turns into a whine as Jack pulls away. Bitty’s about to protest, to insist that, no, he was kidding and demand that, yes, Jack get back here, when Jack’s mouth tips into a smirk and he drops to his knees in front of Bitty. Right there in his foyer. “I—“

“Bits,” Jack says, and Bitty’s afraid his knees are going to give out with Jack looking at him like that. With Jack _sounding_ like that, voice gone low and rough. Jack leans in, nuzzles at the line of his cock through his jeans. Even through the denim and cotton, Bitty can feel him, breath humid and hot. “We’ve done this before.”

Bitty huffs, one hand moving from Jack’s shoulder to card into the hair behind his ear. “I know,” he says. “I know. It’s just…You on your knees. Always does something to me.”

Jack’s chuckle rolls through him, a rumble of sound that sets Bitty’s skin tingling. “You like it,” he says, flicking open the button of Bitty’s pants. The tips of his fingers brush skin and Bitty hisses as he carefully lowers the zipper. “I know. I like it, too.”

“Do you?” Jack’s fingers are a menace. _Jack_ is a menace. Bitty tilts his hips, and Jack hooks his fingers in the waistband of Bitty’s underwear and tugs, exposing the head of Bitty’s cock. “I couldn’t tell.”

Sitting back on his heels, Jack looks up at him, blue eyes gone serious. “Chirping, Bittle? Really?”

“You started it— _fuck, Jack_.”

Jack’s mouth is hot on him, the flat of his tongue snug against the underside of Bitty’s cock, Jack’s face pressed against him. It’s overwhelming, the way Jack is suddenly everywhere, the only thing Bitty can focus on. He swears again and reaches for Jack, fingers moving through his hair before Jack pulls off with a wet sound.

“You were saying.”

Bitty shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Absolutely does not matter. I’d much rather do this than whatever that was.”

He feels more than hears Jack’s laugh, nothing more than a huff of warm air against damp skin, before Jack leans in again, lips teasing at the spot his tongue just occupied. “Oh?” Lips brush skin, and Bitty sighs, fingers tightening in Jack’s hair. “You sure?”

“Jack.” He tugs a little, and Jack’s eyes slip closed. He licks his lips and the tip of his tongue is a barely-there tease. “ _Jack_.”

Smirking up at him, Jack pulls Bitty’s pants down farther. Bitty has long enough to appreciate the sudden freedom before Jack’s mouth is on him again, lips perfect and pink and stretched around the width of Bitty’s cock. It’s overwhelming, really, the wet heat that eclipses everything else, and Bitty groans, head falling back against the door with a thud as Jack pulls back, tip of his tongue playing against the crown.

It’s ridiculous how good Jack is at this, how capable he is at pushing all of Bitty’s particular buttons. Ridiculous, but not surprising. The first time Bitty had visited Providence, the first time they’d been well and truly alone, they’d used the time on their hands wisely. Bitty had learned more completely that Jack loved to be kissed, and kissed deeply. That Jack loved to be on his back, his knees, above Bitty or below him. That Jack was happy to curl in the corner of his recently purchased sofa, to make out like the end of the world was upon them.

And Jack had learned…well. Jack’s currently putting at least some of what he learned to good use, tongue flattening as he moves to take more of Bitty.

“Lord,” Bitty breathes, fingers threading through his hair as Jack’s throat works around him. Jack looks up at him and when their eyes meet his are vivid and blue and so intent Bitty can hardly stand it. “Jack. You’re going to be the death of me. You’re so good, you’re so—”

Jack’s eyes slip shut, lashes dark against his skin. There’s color high in his cheeks, and his hair falls across his forehead, inviting. Bitty shifts, brushes it away, watches as Jack’s eyes flutter at the movement. He’s beautiful, and he’s Bitty’s. It’s almost too much, knowing this. It’s almost too much, and at the same time, Bitty’s not sure he’ll ever get enough of it, this knowledge of Jack, of what it’s like to be something Jack Zimmermann loves.

He can only hope he lives up to it, that Jack knows how important he is, and how loved.

Bitty does his best to show him, petting his hair, moving down to touch the warm curve of his temple, trailing down toward his jaw. Jack moves back to suck at the head, and Bitty can feel himself through Jack’s cheek, can suddenly see himself with both hands on Jack’s face holding him steady as he fucks into his mouth. Bitty swears, and Jack’s eyes flicker up to him. There’s something in that look that makes Bitty’s blood flare, and he knows—body always orienting itself to Jack’s—that this, too, is something he can have.

Keeping his touch light, Bitty moves his hands to bracket Jack’s face, fingers curling in the hair behind his ears. Beneath his palms, Jack’s gone still and Bitty would be worried, but he can tell that Jack’s waiting, anticipation clear in the line of his brows and the curve of his shoulders.

“Jack,” Bitty breathes. “Is this okay?”

The question’s barely out before Jack’s eyes slip shut in a slow blink. When he opens them, they’re clear and sure and then he’s tugging at Bitty’s hips.

It’s encouragement enough.

Bitty starts slow, careful. He’s aware of this thing between them, boundaries beginning to take shape. They are two continents still new and waiting to be explored. Bitty is amazed at each new discovery, his heart full with the way Jack gives and gives, the way he takes. And, oh, he takes so well. Lips stretched around Bitty’s cock, Jack lets him in, lets Bitty push and push until he’s swallowing around Bitty, until he’s blinking up with eyes full of more than Bitty knows what to do with. He hopes his own eyes give Jack whatever he needs, that Jack knows how much Bitty loves and adores and wants him simply by the sweep of Bitty’s eyelashes and the curve of his mouth.

“Jack.”

Jack hums around him. Bitty’s hips twitch, pushing a little deeper; against his hips, Jack’s fingers are hard. There will be bruises there later. Jack will touch them when they’re in the shower. He’ll ask, red-cheeked, if he did that as he does every time he leaves traces of himself on Bitty’s skin. And Bitty will laugh, cover his hand, and nod. Back at the Haus, Bitty will touch them himself, remember this moment. Loves the reminder of Jack, who knows when to be gentle and when to be hard. Who knows _Bitty_ and loves him and—

Bitty pulls back slowly, Jack letting him go inch by inch until lips, plump and pink, are at the head, tongue playing against his skin. He doesn’t know how long he can last like this, not really.

“Look at you,” he says, thumbs sweeping over the curve of Jack’s cheekbones. He’s flushed, pale skin gone pink beneath Bitty’s touch, and when he looks up at Bitty, his eyes are so clear; Bitty could fall into them forever. “Lord, _look at you_. Do you have any idea what you do to me? You’re so beautiful, you’re so—” He doesn’t have the words. He never seems to have the right words to tell Jack what he means in moments like this, how amazed he is, how grateful. How overwhelmed at his fortune. Bitty could have chosen anything, gone anywhere, and yet he chose hockey and Samwell. He picked that life for himself, said, _Yes, this is what I want_ , and found Jack in the process.

And Jack…Jack chose him with open hands and open heart and now here they are in Jack’s apartment and—

“Jack,” he says, heart in his throat as Jack’s mouth moves against him, wet and impossibly hot. “Jack,” he says, and he means it as a warning, he does, but Jack’s hands on him are insistent and who is Bitty to deny him this, to deny him anything when Jack’s eyes are closed in bliss and he’s humming around Bitty, mouth perfect, fingers tight at his hips.

Bitty comes with a groan, with Jack’s name on his lips and Jack’s lips on his cock. He comes, and Jack takes it until he can’t, until Bitty’s cock is slipping free and Jack’s is breathing fast, the tip of this tongue following as he blinks up at Bitty.

In his chest, Bitty’s heart races. His come on Jack’s cheek, he feels impossibly bold and reaches out, smears some at the corner of Jack’s mouth before pressing against Jack’s pink lips, pushing into the wet heat behind them.

Jack’s lips close around him, tongue playing against the pad of Bitty’s thumb, and Bitty feels a tug for more deep within him. Eyelashes fluttering, Jack closes his eyes and hums.

“Good boy,” Bitty says without thinking. He flushes when it’s out, when Jack’s eyes snap open. He’s about to stammer something else out—he’s not sure what, anything—but then Jack’s sucking harder, pulling his thumb in deeper. "Jack,” Bitty sighs. "You’re such—You’re such a good boy.”

A groan this time, low and long and deep, and Jack reaches for his own cock, hand leaving Bitty’s hip to press against himself through his jeans. A wave of heat washes over Bitty as he watches, as Jack’s tongue works against the pad of his thumb. _Oh_ , he thinks. _Oh_ , and something in him thrills. He presses his fingers more firmly against Jack’s jaw, watches as Jack’s hand flexes in his lap.

“That’s it, honey,” he says, voice gone thick. He swallows. “That’s it. You want to touch yourself, don’t you? Want to feel as good as you made me feel? You can, you know?”

Jack’s eyes slide open, blue and glassy. They feel like a brand.

“You made me—You made me feel so good, Jack. You deserve to feel that, too, for being such a good boy.”

The sharp hint of teeth makes Bitty shiver, his fingers stroking Jack’s skin.

“Jack,” he says. “Lord, _Jack_ ,” and then he’s pulling away, he’s pulling away and on his knees and Jack is there in front of him, patient and waiting and wanting. He tastes like Bitty, mouth and hands greedy as Bitty fumbles at the button of his jeans. It takes a moment, only a moment, before Bitty’s fingers brush skin and wrap around his cock. Above him, Jack’s breath catches and he goes silent, muscles clenching, hands tight on Bitty’s shoulders as he comes.

They stay there like that, hands curled around each other, leaning close as their hearts slow. Jack is distracting. Jack is always distracting. His hair tickles the side of Bitty’s neck and his breath is a hot and damp through Bitty’s shirt. With his free hand—the one not covered in…well—Bitty reaches up and scritches his fingers through Jack’s hair at the back of his head, holds him close. Jack’s body goes even more slack against his own.

“Good boy.”

Against his neck, Jack sighs.


End file.
